The Admiral's Coffee Shop
by theadmiralscoffee
Summary: Paperwork just isn't keeping her happy any more, so Kathryn reopens The Night Owl - what would her coffee shop be like?


**A/N - my own headcanons got away from me and spawned this coffee shop. I like to believe Janeway got sick of the paperwork of an Admiral and wanted to open a coffee shop, all on her own. Tumblr only encouraged this...**

**A special thank you to Angela (docbevculver) for giving me a few pointers and fixing my typos (but then I edited stuff again so the typos are all mine again)...**

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><p>Chakotay dropped his keys on the kitchen counter, grabbed a cup of tea, and wandered through the house. He found Kathryn, coffee cup in hand, leaning on the porch railing watching the sun set. Settling his elbows on the railing, he, too, watched the sun set, sensing her brain working overtime.<p>

"Chakotay, I want to reopen The Night Owl." His chuckle caused her to frown and elbow his ribs. "I'm serious!"

"The look on your face had me preparing to have to wait planet side for you to go on a five year mission, not open a coffee shop, Kathryn."

...

Entering the code, Kathryn walked into the dusty interior, leaving footprints behind and fingerprints as she gently touched the counter. She'd spent many nights here, discovering her absolute love for good coffee and delving into her textbooks, often spread around her on the floor in what became 'her' corner. Chakotay quietly followed and made a mental list of things needing repairs and improvements. She stood in the middle, hands clasped and a giant grin across her face, giddier than he'd ever seen her before.

She insisted that the walls needed to be painted before anything else could happen, spending days at a time in the shop, just her and her music until Chakotay got away from his classes. He laughed at the vision before him, an enthusiastic dancing little captain, covered in paint. Kathryn spun from her work, white chalk paint on the end of her nose and across her forehead where she'd swept her hair to the side, where new painty white streaks added to the tiny white highlights she already had. The exposed brick walls were now covered in schematic drawings of the _Voyager, Delta Flyer, Val Jean, _and numerous shuttlecraft. She stood with her hands on her hips, a poor mimicry of her command position, considering her torn jean shorts, bare feet, and flyaway hair, but Chakotay just laughed again and hugged her anyway. She relaxed into him for a second before grabbing his hand and pulling him to her corner; a different kind of schematic wrapped around the alcove. She had recreated their unmade wooden boat and bathtub. Where Kathryn found the drawings, he'd never know. He pulled her close and kissed her softly, an unspoken thank you.

Not to be outdone, he stepped back with a small grin before rummaging in his pocket for a small device, and pressed a button. The small whine of a transporter beam gave way to their command chairs from the bridge and the stools from the various bridge stations. One of her hands flew to her mouth, the other grasped his hand, squeezing it gently as she stepped down and to her chair. She slowly circled it, running her fingertips along the edges in disbelief.

"Oh Chakotay – I heard someone else bought them right away! How did you get them?"

"I knew you'd be snooping and had an old friend grab them for me. Good to know I can still sneak the occasional surprise!"

"I think this makes it…what? Three times _ever_ you've managed to not tip me off? Mmm Captain?"

He smirked and wrapped his arms around her, lowering his face until his lips nearly met hers. "Well _Admiral_, I seem to recall you certainly enjoyed that second enough, wouldn't you say?"

Eventually, the two of them dragged their chairs to the alcove; with their feet propped on the windowsill and coffee and tea in hand, Kathryn and Chakotay sat side by side once again, silhouetted by the brilliant light of the San Francisco sunset.

...

Seven forwarded various Borg blueprints for additions she'd made to the ship's systems; these were carefully painted along the floor with inlayed teeny gel-packs to glow at intersections. Her eyebrow arched when she originally heard the reasoning, stating questionable practicality, but Kathryn insisted Seven had smiled a little bit at the frivolity. Chakotay just rolled his eyes.

Kathryn continued to unpack her storage containers, adding mementos from the Delta Quadrant on the many shelves around the shop as Chakotay finished hanging her flying machine replicated from the da Vinci program. Their massive and ever expanding book collection lined the walls, the alcove especially, with not a PADD in sight. She insisted that PADD books would be completely out of place and Chakotay raised his eyebrow, inquiring where his bride of the 24th country had gone. A wad of paper whacked him in the nose in response.

The soaring ceiling allowed for the wooden support beams to be exposed, to which B'Elanna managed to rig up various mechanical bits stolen (although she claims otherwise) from Voyager's refit. More tiny gel-packs glowed like fairy lights and were intertwined with leis of all colours, winding around the beams and over the flying machine. She employed the use of a few choice Klingon curses at their finicky nature but eventually claimed them all to be healthy, and hopefully less likely to be sick than the originals. The afternoon passed quickly while she joined the command team on the floor, laughing about the best engineering stories and regaled them with a few new stories about malfunctioning gel-packs in her newest Fliers.

Naomi worked on the weekends, hanging all the cult movie posters and menus from Voyager, while Miral matted Kathryn's holoimages, including the new one Miral took while the former command team sipped coffee while watching the sunset, oblivious. Together, they hung Kathryn's paintings and Chakotay's carvings, ignoring the blushing and halfhearted attempts to stop them. When the command team took a weekend off to visit Lake George, the two girls snuck in and painted the entire ceiling, skirting around the rafters, to give a to-scale representation of the seven year journey, starting over the door with Earth and working backward through the shop. Planets sparkled and stars glowed while tiny ships passed through the Voyager's line. Miniature battle scenes marked the path and minute portraits of new crewmembers stood next to their places, with Neelix's next to his new asteroid instead of ruined Rinax, per his request. Beautiful intricate painted frames surrounded the portraits of those lost during the journey, too. When the command team returned, they were, for once, completely speechless, hugging the girls while wiping away their tears.

Tom stopped by one weekend and used the last remaining wall space to hang Voyager's viewscreen, all while Kathryn pestered him, wondering _exactly_ how he'd managed to steal it…she never did get an answer to that one. Tom maneuvered around the question with excuses that it was necessary for hosting Voyager Movie Nights and the 'how' wasn't _really_ necessary, was it? He also rigged an old television set for the back corner, loudly proclaiming that Thursdays had to have _Captain Proton _hours to honour the Queen, of course. Kathryn blushed and gently shoved Tom, admonishing him for his forwardness meanwhile trying to hide her grin. Chakotay laughed and wanted to know if she'd be wearing her costume, at which point she just threw up her hands and walked to the front, muttering about how boys will be boys as they howled with laughter.

The store opened after the summer of renovations to host opening night with the original Voyager crew. Tuvok made the journey from Vulcan with his wife, Seven returning as well. Kathryn used her sway to get a link to Neelix and the few others that were off planet and couldn't make it. Naomi and Miral got to try out their new training and served all sorts of coffees and teas after begging for jobs while they studied at the academy. The crew gathering would later become traditional, the first Saturday of every month becoming Voyager Family Night.

Fresh flowers were tucked all around from her crew members, but a single peace rose adorned her command chair. She gently touched the petals while Chakotay held her close, enjoying a quiet moment while watching the crew laugh together, just as comfortable as they ever were. People dragged family members over to the walls, laughing at the painted quotes or craning their necks to relive adventures long forgotten. She hummed in contentment, relaxing into his arms and swaying to the music; Harry gathered his band, despite his busy schedule, filling the shop with jazzy music and the Doctor coerced Seven into a duet. Miral paused her work just long enough to capture the image of the command team wrapped up in each other, carefully printing it to add to the wall. Months later, she noticed a dried peace rose carefully hung next to the picture.

Kathryn spent many nights at the shop, sitting in her alcove and usually heralding cadets with heroic tales and funny stories to drag them from the studies for a little while. Her favourite music played in the background, her database padded with the favourites from all of her crew, often sparking a new story or memory or eye roll at Tom's selections. Chakotay often joined, sneaking up behind her to lean over the chair and planting a messy kiss on her cheek, causing a disgruntled sigh from the admiral, and gales of laughter from the cadets. He apologised with a fresh cup of coffee and interjected the stories with more humour and exaggerated tales of heroism. She jabbed back with well-timed barbs about his 'old man' status and piloting _résumé_. He usually stopped her with a kiss, her cheeks colouring while she glanced at the cadets and he chuckled, picking the story up again.

The Doctor stopped by often, usually bustling in and claiming he was just there to check in on the admiral's coffee consumption since she was 'getting up there in years,' which he only said that one time and never again after she advanced on him and threatened to decompile his program. He quickly made a mental note that white hair or not, that glare was just as damning as ever and fingers just as pokey. He rubbed his holographic ribs at the memory. Age must be relative or at least practically irrelevant when she drank that much coffee. After the usual caffeine lecture, he always ended up staying for hours, discussing literature with Kathryn, somehow with a clear afternoon schedule every time.

Seven stopped by when she was planet side, always mentioning how she could assimilate the coffee makers, stating deadpan that they are simply inefficient. Kathryn propped her hand on her chin, leaning on the counter, while Seven went through her usual Borg speech, before finally serving her tea made the old fashioned way. The two spent hours discussing Seven's latest advancements in her Astrometrics center with every visit. Seven would never admit it, but Kathryn certainly made better tea than she did, and it was odd how something so inefficient could really be so wonderful.

Occasionally, reporters wandered through, intent on getting the next big story on the famous crew even though they haven't been in the spotlight since the 25th anniversary. Five minutes after meeting the Admiral, Kathryn had them completely under her spell, sitting with her cadets in the alcove and telling stories. The reporters wandered out, hours later, completely forgetting about needing a new story, instead just happy and rejuvenated (although that might just be the Talaxian blend of coffee).

The first Saturday of every month marked a crew gathering; everyone who could stopped by to chat and cadets get enfolded into the family, becoming regulars as well. Her regular cadets always came back; it might take years but each cadet eventually wandered back through the shop, just as content as ever to sit on the floor and enjoy an afternoon with the admiral. Tuvok wasn't able to make the trip any more, but Janeway always raised a cup of tea to him, and Naomi and Seven played Kadis-Kot for Neelix. Sometimes a new baby joined the party and sometimes the gathering was marked by the loss of a crew member, but they carried on as ever. Miral climbed to the ceiling to add a new tiny portrait of those lost and Naomi grabbed the white paint to add quotes to the wall as a way to celebrate them.

...

Kathryn slowly cut back on her hours at the shop, all-nighters becoming harder on her old bones despite her mind being as sharp as ever. Even then, Chakotay often had to stop and collect her from work, finding her by the window; she loved to stand and watch the sunset with her favourite coffee cup from Voyager, freshly filled. Sometimes he carefully watched for a minute, enjoying the colours playing across her hair, before gently hugging her from behind. She stopped wearing heeled boots years ago, making her fit perfectly under his chin even with his stooping back.

"Are you really supposed to be drinking coffee at night, Madame Admiral?"

She gave a non-committal hum and took another long sip, a grin starting to play across her face. As she lowered the cup, Chakotay snatched it and stepped back, taking a sip of his own and immediately grimacing.

"You forgot the sugar and cream again!"

She snatched it back. "You. Wouldn't. Dare!"

He just grinned at her expression, watching concern set into her features as she checked the coffee for signs of contamination. Content that it was safe, she glanced back to his face, smiling at the twinkle in his eyes. His comment was cut off by a soft kiss from Kathryn before she turned and leaned back into his arms again. By time the coffee was gone, the sun was gone, too.

They walked out, hand in hand, and she locked up with her ancient keys, new technology be damned. The old keys just fit the shop, or so she insisted. She tucked herself into his side and they walked home, moonlight glinting off the harbour.

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><p><strong>Tada! Let me know what you think!<strong>

**I, for one, would like to actually open a coffee shop like this somewhere...**


End file.
